


Survivor

by betterrecieved



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet.  Their life adjusting to the goat farm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor

At first it is most blissful carefree honeymoon. They play house as free men, watching over their two sweet, well-behaved children.

They fuck on every surface of the little cottage they now live in, they laugh and wrestle, and Agron occasionally lets Nasir win. The children are forever walking in on them just after they redress, and they are in a constant state of giggles and conspiratorial looks.

But as weeks pass Nasir’s ready Yes becomes a constant No, he is distracted, he scolds the children, he will not allow the goats inside their cottage.

When Agron is not working their land or tending to the children he follows Nasir wherever he goes, learning how to do something other than battle so that he might aid Nasir.

He watches him launder their clothing, prepare meals, whisk through their home with broom, quickly rearranging Agron and the children’s’ scattered shoes and cloaks.

Nasir holds their small monetary accounts in his head, walks to the closest marketplace twice weekly, coming back after hours with a full basket, looking triumphant.

“No, you cannot come with me to the marketplace, your brand is too conspicuous,” Nasir tells him. Laundering clothing will not help heal his hands but only cause them pain. Too many cooks in kitchen spoil food. If Agron aided him in keeping account of our money, Nasir would soon be confused by his differing numbers.

No, of course he must help with the children and the four little prancing goats. He is _so_ good with them; Nasir has never cared for any children nor animals before.

“Agron, not now, I am busy.” Nasir will only give him small kiss before going back to his endless chores.

Agron slumps away to let Lucanus and Nona joyously climb his body like tree.

*

Nasir is indefatigable during the day, but at night, his head falls heavily onto Agron’s chest. Agron must claim his goodnight kiss from slack lips.

One day Agron bursts into kitchen, thirsty and hot from long day spent slowly tilling their small plot of land with his clumsy hands and the children’s eager help.

He finds Nasir standing frozen over overturned platter of food, his eyes glazed.

Nasir startles when Agron weakly grasps his arm. “I did not see you there!” he says.

Agron wonders what else he himself has not seen.

*

“You must tell me what has caused this change in you,” Agron begs. To have Nasir fade from his grasp in this strange way is fate nearly as heart-wrenching as old fear of losing him in battle. “I fear you are working yourself to illness.”

They sit on bed, in privacy of their bedroom while the children scamper just outside front door, within earshot. “I am the same as I ever was,” Nasir sighs. “You have not noticed it before because rebellion held your attention. And you do not know how to do anything for yourself, and neither do the children, so I must do everything.”

Agron frowns. “You have never before been too tired to kiss me at night. And I have asked you to show me how I might ease demands upon you.”

Nasir’s eyes go dark and flat like pitch. “You do not expect me to sit idle when so many have died so that I could live free?” he hisses.

And just like that, the rocks in Agron’s head clear away, and he understands everything. “Nasir. They died not to burden you with debt, but to unburden you of constraint, of drudgery such as this.”

Nasir sits there fighting battle within himself. Agron opens his arms and waits. There is no use holding on when Nasir is likely to spring away, needing to fight invisible enemy of guilt. “Nasir, you deserve to enjoy this freedom. Of all of us - You deserve this life. To live - it honors them.”

Nasir’s lip quivers. “For Naevia,” he whispers.

Agron blinks back tears. “For Castus.”

Nasir’s takes shuddering breath, eyes squeezed shut. “For Lugo,” he says when he is calm.

“For Gannicus,” Agron hushes.

"For Chadara."

"For Saxa." Agron tightens his arms as Nasir moves into his embrace.

"For all of the names we did not know," Nasir breathes.

Agron strokes Nasir's face, wanting to take his chin in hand but unable.

"For Agron's hands," Nasir says, turning into his touch. 

And Agron can only marvel at him and wonder what he can do to deserve this beautiful life.

*

After that, their honeymoon never ends, never.


End file.
